Chapter Nine
Fallon opened the refrigerator and took out the hazelnut creamer, pouring it into her freshly brewed cup of coffee. She stirred it three times, took a big sip, and padded over to the kitchen table. Hazelnut creamer—the extra creamy one—was her guilty indulgence; it made her feel like she was in a Paris café, away from all the bullshit in her life. Sometimes when things got to be too much, she’d come down in the middle of the night, fix a cup of coffee with her favorite creamer, and drink it in the silence and darkness of the kitchen. The quiet was her refuge, but her world was full of noise and meanness. Why do people want to hurt others? It was a question she’d been asking for as long as she could remember. Her father was mean and hurt her mother, driving her away from them, and then he turned his anger on her.
Fallon sighed, then took another sip of coffee. She looked again at the text Diablo had sent her the night before about the sunset. When she’d received it, she dashed upstairs to her room and climbed out the window, watching the fiery sun make its descent over the mountain peaks. Warmth spread through her as she watched the last wisps of daylight disappear, knowing he was watching it too.
Diablo looked so fierce, yet he was so nice to her. By the way he looked, she never would’ve imagined he’d be so kind. And he did something to her; he gave her a quiet confidence, made her want to trust him, made her insides quiver in a good way. She hadn’t trusted a man since James Thornhill pushed himself on her, pretending to like her when they were juniors in high school. She’d lost her virginity to him, thinking they were a couple, only to overhear all the whispers circulating around the school after they’d done it under the full moon on a blanket spread over the grassy part of Chacon National Park. She’d been nervous the park ranger would find them and tell her dad, but she pretended to like it even though it hurt and was all over in less than fifteen minutes. She’d figured she’d get used to it, chalking it up to her nervousness about her dad finding out. James had told her it was good as he’d rolled off her, but when she’d tried to cuddle next to him, he’d pushed her off and told her he had to get back home. He hadn’t called her for the rest of the weekend, and when he’d ignored her that Monday morning in the school halls, her stomach had twisted and lurched. He’d used her. And when he’d finally spoken to her a few weeks later, he’d basically told her that he’d figured she’d be easy because she was a cripple. That’s what he called her—a cripple. The memory of his words still stung even though five years had passed.
Diablo didn’t strike her as a guy who’d do that to a woman, but she couldn’t be sure. A part of her wanted to get to know him better, but a larger part was terrified. For most of her life she’d been sheltered and invisible, and there was definitely comfort in that existence. A part of her wanted to break away and live, but fear of the unknown strangled and held her back. She wanted to text him back, but she couldn’t.
“Did you finish ironing the napkins for Thursday’s luncheon?” Shanna’s nasally voice grated on her nerves.
Fallon nodded and finished her coffee. She rinsed the cup and placed it in the dishwasher.
“Did you take your time polishing the silver? Last time you didn’t do such a good job.”
Fallon gritted her teeth. “If you don’t like the way I do it, maybe you should do it the way you want it.”
“Quit giving me sass! You know that shit ruins my nails.”
“Well, I’m allergic to it and that doesn’t seem to matter.” She walked out of the kitchen.
“I’m trying to be nice here, Fallon. Don’t piss me off. I’m nervous enough about having them society ladies over on Thursday for lunch. I don’t need your attitude on top of it.”
“Are you giving Shanna a hard time?” her father’s voice boomed from the living room.
“She’s just being her same ol’ selfish self, Charlie. Maybe you can remind her how important the day after tomorrow is for me.” Shanna’s heels clacked on the marble as she walked into the living room.
“Fallon, come in here,” Charlie said.
She took a few deep breaths, then stood at the entrance of the room. “What?”
“You know this luncheon is very important to your stepmother. She’s worked very hard to get into these ladies’ social circle. She’s helping them with their big fundraiser, and all she’s asking is for you to be cooperative. You’re acting like a selfish child right now.”
Fallon stared at her father as he lectured her, despising the smug look spreading across Shanna’s face as she practically sat on his lap. Her dad looked like he could be Shanna’s father. He looks ridiculous. I have to get away from them.
“Are you listening to me?” Charlie’s stern voice brought her back. She nodded.
“And remind her that I don’t want her around on Thursday. I don’t need the women focusing on her.”
“And where am I supposed to go for the day?” Fallon placed her hands on her hips.
Shanna shrugged. “I don’t know or care. Go to the warehouse or shopping. I’m sure Charlie will give you his credit card.” She placed a kiss on his cheek and he smiled. “The point is I don’t want you around.”
Heat flushed through her body as she tensed. Lifting her chin up, she said, “You know, Shanna, I don’t give a fuck what you want. But you don’t have to worry about me hanging around for your kiss-ass fest because I always want to spend as little time as possible in your presence.”
Shanna’s jaw dropped and Charlie stared at Fallon. Satisfaction coursed through her.
Then anger mottled Shanna’s face. “Are you gonna let the little bitch talk to me that way?” she asked Charlie.
“No. I’m not.” Charlie’s nostrils flared. “How dare you talk to my wife like that, you ungrateful shit. Apologize to her. Right the fuck now!”
Her stomach rolled over and she bit her lip; her father’s anger always triggered her instinct to flee. Normally, she’d hang her head and mumble an apology to Shanna, then trudge up to her room, lock her door, and fling herself on her bed, or go out on the roof and cry. And even though she wanted to resort to her routine, something kept her mute and rooted.
Charlie gently slid Shanna off his lap. “If I have to come get you, I promise you’ll be sorry.”
Images of her father beating her with his belt flashed through her mind. It’d been a long time since he’d beaten her, but he hadn’t given up the occasional slap across her face, punch to her arm, or yank of her hair. I should just say I’m sorry and go upstairs. “I do want to say something to Shanna.”
Charlie leaned back against the cushion, his arm circling Shanna’s waist as her eyes shone like a lion watching its prey. “Go ahead,” he said.
Fallon moved closer to the front door. “Shanna, take your luncheon and shove it up your ass. Fuck you!” They’d take a few seconds to comprehend what she’d just said since it was out of character for her to talk back like that. By the time she heard her father and Shanna yelling, she was out the door and in her car. Her father rushed out, but she kept backing up, even when he pounded on her window and threatened all sorts of punishment for her “insolence.”
Tears clouded her vision but she drove on, creating as much distance as she could between her and them. She drove aimlessly through the town she was born in, realizing she had nowhere to go or anyone to turn to. Of course, she could go to the warehouse and see if Sylvia was around, but she didn’t want to deal with Emerald, Heidi, and Cassie. They always gave her a hard time, and whenever they did it in front of Shanna, she’d join in. Her dad would usually give them a stern look except when Shanna was in on it. Another one of the ring girls, Pippa, didn’t pay attention to her one way or another, too busy turning tricks to make a lot of money so she could move to Los Angeles. Fallon had overheard her telling Cassie that she wanted to start a career in acting. Sylvia was the only ring girl she liked and considered a friend, but she couldn’t burden her again with her problems.
She drove out of Tula and headed south on the old highway toward Alina. Maybe I’ll get some lunch or window-shop. She held her breath. Maybe I’ll bump into Diablo. She exhaled and gripped the steering wheel.
Tula was only thirty miles from Alina, so Fallon made it there in no time. She’d never driven through the town, so she wasn’t sure how to get around, but she kept driving toward the seven-story buildings until she hit Main Street. She drove up and down the large street, loving the way the cherry blossoms framed it in a wave of pink and white colors. Spotting the familiar sign for Leroy’s Diner, she pulled into a parking space and got out of the car. Maybe Diablo will be in there with his friends.
People’s voices, plates on counters, ringing bells for orders, and Chuck Berry on the overhead speaker surrounded her as she entered the eatery. The place was packed. Her eyes drifted to the chalkboard that had the blue plate specials written in yellow lettering. The waitress who’d waited on her and Sylvia a few days before waved her over to a seat at the counter.
“You’re busy,” Fallon said as she took the menu from her. The waitress nodded, then rushed away. It was apparent she hadn’t recognized Fallon. She looked at the menu, then placed it down on the counter. She wasn’t very hungry; her stomach was still in knots from the earlier fight at home. Dread threatened to suffocate her as she thought about going back home later that day.
“What’ll you have?” a woman in her fifties with thick red-framed glasses asked.
Fallon looked to her right and her left to see what the other diners were eating. Plates of mashed potatoes and chicken fried steak swimming in gravy were all around her, and nausea assaulted her. “A ginger ale with a lot of ice. What soups do you have that aren’t cream-based?”
“Vegetable.”
“I’ll have a cup of that with extra crackers.” She’d read that soda crackers and ginger ale were good for a queasy stomach.
As she sipped her drink, she looked around the busy diner, hoping to see a good-looking bearded man who had the most amazing tats she’d ever seen. To her, he was perfect. She noticed how many women checked him out, but she’d never seen him pay any attention to any woman at the warehouse except her. Funny tugs at her breasts and between her legs caused her to shift on her seat. So he’s nice to you. He probably feels sorry for you. The thing Fallon hated worse than deliberate cruelty was pity. She’d take a slap to her face or a mean phrase over the look of sympathy and pity she’d sometimes see in strangers’ eyes when she’d go out in public. But Diablo didn’t look at her with pity; his gaze was kind and was all for her.
“Anything more?” the waitress asked as she held Fallon’s bill in her hand. She shook her head and the woman slammed the bill face down on the counter before going over to another customer.
She glanced at the clock on the back wall, wondering what she was going to do. There was no way she was going back home. She figured she’d wait until Shanna and her dad were asleep, then sneak in and go to her room. I could go to the library and read. She loved libraries; she and her mother had gone often when she’d been young.
Taking out her wallet, she saw her phone. The truth was that she really didn’t want to be alone at that moment. Without analyzing it, she sent a text to Diablo, then held her breath.
Fallon: Hi.
A ping! She tugged at the front of her shirt, licked her lips, then looked down at the screen.
Diablo: Hey. Good to hear from u.
She smiled.
Fallon: Guess where I am.
Diablo: No idea, sweet pea.
She grinned. This is the second time he’s called me that. When he’d first said it, she’d thought she hadn’t heard him right, but she liked it. She liked that he didn’t say something common like “babe” or “baby” or “sweetie.” It seemed like a lot of men threw those words out to women, but when he’d called her “sweet pea,” it felt like he used it just for her. Some women may find it hokey, but she liked it.
Diablo: U still there???
Fallon: Yeah. Sorry. I’m in Alina at the diner.
Diablo: Is that right? Gonna have to come by & see u.
She inhaled and exhaled deeply, her pulse pounding in her ears. Here goes nothing….
Fallon: I’d like that. It’s super crowded in here.
Diablo: Give me 30 mins. Gotta wash the grease offa me.
Fallon: Ok. Should I just wait here?
Diablo: Ya. Order a piece of coconut cream pie. It’s fuckin’ delicious.
Fallon: Ok. I’m at the counter.
Diablo: See u soon.
Fallon set her phone on the counter, nervous shivers shooting through her. He’s coming. A couple of women in short dresses waltzed in and sat at the small table for two behind Fallon. She casually spun around on the stool and looked at them: long brown hair, impeccable makeup, and plenty of cleavage. She noticed how many of the men stared at them. Since she’d come into the diner, no one gave her a second look—not even a first look, actually. Normally, she’d be glad not to have any attention on her, but at that moment, it made her sad.
She took out her compact and glanced at her face: no makeup, a pimple on the side of her right temple, and dry lips. Looking down, she groaned—absolutely no cleavage.
“Did you want anything else?” the waitress asked as a frown formed between her eyebrows.
“No, thanks. I was just getting ready to leave.” Fallon took the bill and went to the cashier.
“Did you enjoy your meal?” the young woman asked.
“Yeah. Is there a drugstore around here?” She handed her a ten-dollar bill.
“A block down, across the street.” The cashier placed the change in Fallon’s hand.
After going back to leave a tip, Fallon left the diner and headed to the drugstore. Once inside, she went to the makeup department and glanced over the multitude of products. Her father hadn’t allowed her to wear makeup when she was a teenager, so she used to sneak it in her purse and put it on at school, washing it off before she returned home. After the incident with James, she’d felt so ashamed that she’d stopped going to school. Her dad had been fine with it, so she’d spent the rest of her teenage years around the house, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of her dad.
She picked up a tube of mauve lipstick, mascara, a powder foundation, and a pink-hued blush. After purchasing the items, she went into the restroom and took out the makeup. Looking in the mirror, she scraped a hand through her hair. Feeling dizzy, she gripped the edge of the sink to steady herself as her heart pounded. Coughing, she struggled to catch her breath. She sank to the floor, her head down, her short gulps of air bouncing off the tiled walls.
What possessed me to contact him? I can’t see him.
The creak of the bathroom door behind her made her body tense. “Are you all right?” a woman asked, her heels clacking on the tiled floor. A strong floral scent wafted from her as she bent down.
Fallon looked at the woman’s round face. “I’m okay. I was just feeling a bit dizzy.” I’m fucking freaking out, lady. Move on and leave me alone.
“Do you need some help up?” The woman offered her hand.
How fucking more pathetic can I get? “No, but thanks for offering. I’ll be okay.”
“All right… if you’re sure.” The woman straightened up and went into one of the stalls.
The wave of terrifying fear passed and Fallon slowly pulled herself up, then splashed some cool water on her face. I can’t do this.
Her phone pinged and she jumped as if a bomb had exploded next to her. She took it out.
Diablo: I don’t see u. Where u sitting?
Fallon inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slowly. She did five repetitions, then tapped in her response.
Fallon: Sorry. Wasn’t feeling well so left.
Diablo: What the fuck? Where u at?
I don’t know what to do. I want to see him but—
Diablo: Fallon? Don’t shut down on me.
Fallon: Sorry. Just feeling shaky. I’m at the drugstore.
Diablo: The one a block from the diner?
Fallon: Yeah.
Diablo: I’m on my way. Don’t fuckin’ leave.
Fallon: I won’t.
The worst of it was over. He’s coming and it’s going to be all right. She broke the seal of the lipstick, quickly swiping the color over her lips. The shimmer brightened her face, and for a brief second, she wondered if he’d like it. She finger-combed her hair and jumped when she heard the ping.
Diablo: I’m here. R u?
Fallon: Yeah. In the restroom. Will be out in a sec.
Staring at her reflection, she brushed some blush on her cheeks, pleased that it gave her face some color. “You can do this,” she muttered under her breath. “You told Shanna off and it felt fucking good, and now you’re meeting a man who’s gorgeous. You’re on a roll. Don’t fuckin’ freak out. Just. Don’t.”
She thrust her shoulders back, secured her purse on her shoulder, and exited the bathroom.